


i want to be every button you press

by thistidalwave



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018 World Juniors, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistidalwave/pseuds/thistidalwave
Summary: “We should talk,” Dillon repeats, “about last night.”Cal’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?”





	i want to be every button you press

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eafay70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/gifts).



> Need a primer for these boys? [Watch this video of them giggling.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Is4Xlqyd47c) That's it, you're done!
> 
> tyvm to Becca for the excellent prompt and help, and to Lily and Elissa for the beta reading skills <3

The hotel hallway is quiet except for the hum of the elevators. Dillon presses the down button and looks sidelong at Cal. Cal absently licks his bottom lip and shoves his hands into the pocket of his Team Canada hoodie, and Dillon has a vivid sense memory of licking Cal’s bottom lip himself last night. He looks away quickly.

An elevator pings somewhere above them. Dillon chances another look at Cal. He’s not looking at Dillon, and Dillon can’t quite tell if that’s by design or not. Either way, it’s driving him crazy.

“We should talk about this,” Dillon decides aloud.

Cal looks at him, confused. “What?”

“We should talk,” Dillon repeats, “about last night.” 

Cal’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

Dillon resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s not—”

He cuts himself off as an elevator pings and its doors slide open in front of them. Cal takes a step toward it, then hesitates when he sees the number of people inside.

“You’ll probably fit,” a lady says, sticking her hand in front of the doors to stop them from closing.

Cal starts to move again, but Dillon grabs his wrist. “That’s okay, we’ll wait for the next one,” Dillon says. She nods and moves her hand, letting the doors close. After a moment, Cal pulls his arm out of Dillon’s grasp and pushes the down button.

“What is there to talk about?” Cal asks. 

This time Dillon does roll his eyes. “I don’t know, the making out? The getting off? The cuddling? Take your pick, man.”

Cal’s shoulders are so tense they’re practically attached to his ears. Dillon wants to reach out and touch him, but he’s too afraid Cal will just pull away again. “Uh, we didn’t talk about it before.”

“It wasn’t like that before,” Dillon says.

“Like what?” 

An elevator at the end of the row pings. It’s just as full as the last one, and Dillon shakes his head at its occupants. He and Cal both watch as the doors close again. Cal presses the button and then looks at Dillon expectantly.

“It wasn’t like…” Dillon fumbles for the words. “Well, we didn’t exactly kiss the other times. It was way more… bros. Which I know seems like a stupid thing to say about your hand on my dick—”

“Shhhh!”

“—but you know what I mean,” Dillon continues. “Because, you know, my shoulder being fucked up. And stuff.” 

Cal shrugs. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but having this conversation, which kind of… hurts, actually. “It didn’t seem that different.”

Dillon feels unsteady for a moment. He takes a deep breath. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? He’s pretty sure it’s bullshit, because bros don’t generally kiss each other the way Cal kissed him last night, but at the same time… maybe it isn’t. Maybe Dillon felt something that wasn’t there at all, and now he’s made a fool of himself.

“So it didn’t mean anything to you?” he asks, horrified when the question comes out just this side of watery. He is _not_ going to cry over a _boy_ in a hotel in Buffalo. He’s just fucking not. 

The elevator in front of them pings. They actually probably could get on this one, but Cal waves it away without a second glance. “We’ll just take the stairs,” he says, and the doors slide closed once again.

Cal heads toward the stairwell, and after a moment, Dillon follows. He stares at Cal’s feet as they walk down the stairs. His shoes squeak on the grey rubber.

He wonders if Cal is just going to leave it there, his affirmative answer obvious in his silence. That’s probably for the best if so. Dillon likes to think of himself as pretty in touch with his emotions, but he genuinely didn’t realize exactly how much he cared about Cal until… well, right now. He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be this broken up about one makeout session as if it _means something_ when they’ve already been hooking up for weeks.

Cal stops at the bottom of the first flight of stairs and turns around. “I didn’t say _that_ ,” he tells Dillon. 

Dillon’s heart flutters with hope. “Uh, okay,” he says warily. He walks down the last couple steps so they’re both on the landing, trying to get his thoughts together. “Then… why don’t you want to talk about it?” 

“I just… someone could hear,” Cal says, looking nervously up and down the stairs.

“There’s no one here, Cal,” Dillon says. “Do you regret it?” 

Cal frowns. “No?” 

“ _No?_ ” Dillon echoes, frustration leaking into his voice. “Why don’t you sound sure?” 

“Because I’m _not_ ,” Cal says, voice too loud. It bounces off the cinderblock walls, and he cringes. “I mean, I don’t… I don’t regret it. Or you. At all. I haven’t _been_ regretting it. It’s kind of… look, being here is stressful and intimidating, and I’m so glad to have gotten past selection camp but so nervous about what’s going to happen once the tournament actually starts for real, and pretty much the only thing I _am_ sure of is that I don’t regret it. You’re the only thing that makes sense.” 

“I’m… what?” Dillon says dumbly.

Cal huffs. “Dillon,” he says helplessly. He turns his palms upward and spreads his arms as he shrugs, and Dillon reaches for his hands without thinking. Cal lets him take them, and as soon as he does, the tension melts out of Cal’s body.

“That’s my name,” Dillon says, and Cal snorts a laugh. Dillon grins, pleased with himself, and squeezes Cal’s hands. Cal sighs and closes his eyes for a moment.

“I just wanted something easy,” he says when he opens them again.

“I’m easy,” Dillon says. “I’m _so_ easy, I think I’ve made that pretty clear.”

The corner of Cal’s mouth curls upward. “Yeah, until all this,” he says, indicating their joined hands and the entire situation. It’s a fair point.

“Okay, sure, yeah, but back up a minute, because I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m kind of panicking,” Dillon says. “I just want to be clear on the feelings involved here. Like, for instance, I, uh… I want to be more than bros? Or something?”

Cal doesn’t say anything for a long, excruciating minute. Dillon thinks the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in the stairwell might actually kill him. “I think we’re more than bros already,” he says finally. “I’ve, uh, been trying not to say anything, because, um… I wasn’t sure you felt the same?”

Dillon stares up at Cal. “Well, fuck,” he says. “What do you mean by the same?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Cal says, exasperated. “I like you?” 

“You like me?” Dillon repeats. “Since when?” 

“I don’t know, awhile? Do you think someone who didn’t like you would offer to jerk you off?”

“Well, when you put it like _that_ ,” Dillon huffs. “I thought it was just… I don’t know, bro stuff.”

Cal laughs, and Dillon scowls at him. “You’re the one who let me think that,” he protests. “And wait, if you were trying to be chill or whatever, why kiss me last night?” 

“I told you,” Cal says. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while, and it just seemed so much simpler than before. Like, you and me… we’re solid, no matter what happens here, so why not just… do it?” He laughs slightly. “I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t question it, though.” 

“Callan Foote,” Dillon says. He’s so relieved he can’t stop smiling. “You’re a fucking romantic. Where were you keeping all that sweet talk while I was oblivious? Didn’t you ever consider that it might be easier to just use your words?”

Cal shrugs. “I guess I’ll start now,” he says. He presses his thumb to the corner of Dillon’s mouth. “I love your cheeks when you smile.” 

The inside of Dillon’s chest turns to liquid. “Okay, that’s enough of that, actually,” Dillon says, and he lets go of Cal’s other hand, fists his hands in Cal’s hoodie, and pulls him down so that he can kiss him. 

It’s somehow even better than Dillon remembers from the night before. Cal kisses softly but with authority, and when he walks Dillon backward into the wall with his hands on Dillon’s hips, it’s all Dillon can do to stay upright. He tries very hard not to think about last night, except then Cal starts kissing his neck, which is exactly what he did before dropping to his knees, so— 

“We should stop,” Dillon says breathlessly.

“Why?” Cal asks into Dillon’s neck.

Dillon bites his own lip hard. He’s having trouble remembering that himself, but, “I thought you were scared of someone hearing?” 

Cal lifts his head and smirks. “I mostly was just scared you’d say we had to stop, like, forever,” he admits, and Dillon has to kiss him again to make up for that. “You’re right, though, we’re going to be _really_ late for breakfast if you keep doing that.”

Dillon makes a face. “Kiss me one more time,” he says. “We can blame it on the elevators.”

Cal does.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/thistidalwave) for more baby rare pair content.


End file.
